


His Muse, His Reason

by Simp_Supreme



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Also I'll be adding in other characters later, Alternate Universe, Angst, Artist AU, Bullying, Depression, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, I'll update the tags as needed, Kissing, M/M, Slow Burn, There will most likely be more triggering topics later on, teenage romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:07:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28006683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Simp_Supreme/pseuds/Simp_Supreme
Summary: One seeks the motivation to keep going. The other seeks someone to live for.If only they'd found each other sooner.• A Haikyuu Artist AU in which Tsukishima Kei and Yamaguchi Tadashi find an escapism from the cruel outside world in each other's arms. •
Relationships: Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 5
Kudos: 4





	His Muse, His Reason

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first full-fledged fanfic I've written in years, so please don't clown me too hard ahaha. Also understand that some of this I'll be deciding as I go, and that I'm still trying to decide exactly how I want this to end. Any and all feedback in appreciated by the way!
> 
> !!⚠ TW ⚠!!
> 
> There will be themes and scenes of depression and bullying throughout the story, so if those things are triggering to you, please either proceed with caution or find another story to read. I have zero intention of hurting anyone! <3

It's a rather frigid Autumn afternoon, the chilly air blowing the color-changing leaves of the trees around in its sweeping gusts. The longer blades of grass dance along with the trees, creating the beautiful fall scene that inspires all the budding artists attending Saku Hana Academy of the Arts. The courtyard and exteriors are decorated with each changing season, much of it often being done by the third-year students as a tradition. This year, the outside of the school is decked out in bright reds, and vibrant oranges, and soft, mellow browns, gentle yellows and creamy whites. It's an eye-catching, gorgeous scene that fills the campus with a jovial warmth despite the crisp climate.

One of those artists is first-year Tsukishima Kei, a photography and videography student. The tall, ash blonde, amber-eyed boy strolls through the courtyard of the campus, searching for a scene to photograph. He'd been going through a bit of a dry spell inspiration-wise lately. Nothing's really seemed to catch his eye enough, and that's _definitely_ not a good place to be in during your first week enrolled at an elite art school. The boy's eyebrows scrunch up in mild frustration as he's reminded of his ongoing plight from the past few weeks. He clicks his tongue as his eyes dart around in search of something—anything—to give him some motivation, but nothing seems to pique his interest. It always _has_ been pretty difficult for the boy to find the drive to do much of anything. Tsukishima Kei is not exactly one that many would call an 'ambitious person'. But he does know _what_ he wants to do.

He knows that he wants to be able to capture all of life's intimate and beautiful little fleeting moments in each photo he takes and each video he records. He knows that he wants to create a world in which the good far outweighs any of the bad. He wants to be able to stop time in each frame he captures, and preserve all the positivity that he can in that moment. But how is he supposed to do that when he can't find any beauty to capture? After all, Tsukishima is by no means an optimistic person. In fact, he's more negative than most people. If he were to tell people about his ambitions and desires, they'd probably simply laugh in his face.

.

.

Tsukishima begins to give up his search, deciding that maybe he should just find some pretty leaf or flower or something to take a picture of and call it a day so he doesn't feel like he _completely_ wasted his time here. As he begins to do that, however, the sound of soft sobs and hiccupping reaches his ears. ' _Is someone...crying?_ ' He stops in his tracks, his eyes scanning the area in search of the source of the weeping. He isn't quite sure why he even cares. It's not the first time he's heard someone cry around him, and he never stopped any of the other times. But something...something about these cries...they sounded so broken and fragile. As if they were tears of pure defeat, rather than just simple sadness. He felt compelled to follow the voice despite his usual disinterest and lack of empathy.

As he walks toward the voice, soft tufts of olive green hair begin to come into his view from behind a couple thick bushes and the bark of a tall maple tree. The grass and fallen leaves crunch softly under his shoes as he approaches who he finds to be a young boy, who is—by the looks of it—around his own age. As the other boy comes fully into his view, Tsukishima notices the boy's slightly hunched over position, his hands tightly gripping the hem of his ivory-colored wool sweater as his body trembles softly. The blonde watches as his tears hit the unfinished painting sat on the grass in front of him, each drop wetting and warping the paper slightly.

At first, Tsukishima is stunned into silence. He isn't actually quite sure why he's so stunned, but he finds that he can't get himself to really do anything but watch the boy sob weakly for the time being. He realizes how odd he must look just standing there watching someone cry after a few seconds, swallowing thickly as he tries to decide whether he wants to say something or just walk away.

' _Do something...or just like, say something you idiot. What are you just standing here for??_ '

"Uh...why the hell are you crying like that?"

What the fuck— Why did he say THAT? He winces slightly as he hears himself speak such harsh-sounding words out of nowhere. Unfortunately for him—though it's generally not directed toward total strangers, this is not super uncommon behavior for Tsukishima. After all, he's not exactly the most empathetic or socially adept person on the planet. He's pretty far from it, actually. Much of the blonde's communication and self-expression happens more so through his actions than his words because most of his attempts at verbally communicating end up something like this. His pride doesn't really like to allow him much in the ways of being upfront about emotional matters, so he opts to show it instead.

He casually walks over to stand in front of the sobbing boy, meeting his gaze as said boy looks up at him. Immediately at the sight of the boy's face, Tsukishima feels his gut clench slightly. His face is streaked with tears, his eyes puffy and a soft red, and his cheeks—which are both covered in a littering of freckles—are flushed a gentle coral-ish color. The boy's lip quivers softly as he looks at the tall blonde stood before him who's seemingly glowering down at him. He quickly moves his gaze back down to his now ruined painting, feeling more tears quickly begin to brim in his eyes.

" _Please...just go away...I d-don't wanna be picked on anymore— Please_." He softly speaks to the boy in front of him, sniffling quietly and continuing to clutch the end of his sweater tightly beneath his fingers. Hearing that nearly broke Tsukishima's heart, once again sending a pang of hurt through his abdomen. He was still trying to figure out why on earth he even cared about this random boy, but decided that he'd figure it out later. This seems more important at the moment.

"Well there's no way in hell any bully is gonna leave you alone after you say it like that. _Jesus_..." His body seems to move him to sit beside the mystery boy after a couple seconds of awkward lingering before his mind can agree on doing so. He turns his head to make eye contact with him after sitting down, finding that the other boy's eyes are a soft chocolate color upon looking into them.

"Actually, they don't leave me alone no matter _what_ I do. It's been like this my whole life though. N-Nobody really thinks much of me..." The boy brings his sleeve up to wipe his tears away, sniffling again and moving his gaze back down to the painting in front of him.

"Eh, people are assholes and the world is a shithole because of it. You shouldn't let other people's irrelevant opinions make you feel shitty because they really don't matter in the end." Tsukishima shrugs, turning his gaze up to the sky as he leans back on his hands.

The boy just sits silently, pondering Tsukishima's words and wiping a few more tears from his eyes. He understands the sensibility in that mindset. He knows how right the blonde is. But somehow, he can't bring himself to accept that. After all, if nobody else thinks anything of him, how is he supposed to think highly of himself?

Deciding that he'd rather just change the subject instead, the freckle-faced boy turns his head to look at Tsukishima again, still fidgeting shyly with his sweater hem. "What's...what's your name?..."

"Tsukishima Kei. What's yours?" Tsukishima doesn't take his eyes off the sky despite seeing the boy turn his attention back toward him out of the corner of his eye, watching as cloud after cloud passes through.

The freckle-faced boy looks back downward as he answers—once again—timidly, drawing his knees up to his chest and beginning to pick at a blade of grass. He's never been very socially confident at all, and doesn't have any friends here at his new school because of it. But some feeling in his chest tells him that Tsukishima might be his first, and could very well be his best.

"I-I'm Yamaguchi Tadashi."


End file.
